a smile across his illusory features, and stepped away from Nimor's mount. "Good luck in your venture, Captain."
Nimor wheeled the war-lizard around as the last of the column passed by.
He turned back to the lich and said, "One more word. Narbondel was illuminated hours late a tenday ago, but every day xx''since it has been illu-minated on time, and it is whispered throughout the city that the Masters of Sorcere have misplaced their archmage."
Dyrr smiled and spread his hands.
"As Archmage Baenre may be unavailable for quite some time," the lich said, "it would please me to find the Masters of Sorcere determine on their own who among them should take Gromph's seat."
"Won't Matron Mother Baenre and the Council have something to say about that?"
"Not if the assembled masters realize the power they truly hold now," Dyrr said. "I am not a member of the Academy, of course, but a couple of young pups of my House are, and they keep me well-informed. The mas-ters debate whether this is the time to break with tradition and name their own archmage, but half of themscheme to eliminate any fellow clever and bold enough to take the job, while the other half contemplate whether they might return to their own Houses and rule there. Breaking from the Council in such a way would mean civil war, and those few masters who don't realize the civil war is raging already are arguing to adhere to the status quo in fear of Lolth's return. Regardless, Sorcere is well and truly paralyzed by Gromph's absence."
The lich turned, leaning heavily on his tall staff, and ambled off with a dry, crackling laugh.
Nimor raised an eyebrow and watched the lich depart, considering his ally's words, then he trotted off after the column.
"Lieutenant Jazzt!" he called.
From alongside the marching column of House Agrach Dyrr's warriors, a small, scarred male detached himself and came trotting to Nimor's side. The soldiers marching in the expedition knew very well that "Captain Zhayemd" was no scion of their House, but it had been explained to them that the detachment's commander enjoyed Matron Mother Yasraena's com-plete confidence and had, in fact, been adopted into the leadership of their ancient clan - a common enough practice among the high Houses of the city. Nimor didn't doubt that Jazzt Dyrr, second cousin to the matron mother herself, had received some additional and specific orders concerning the circumstances under which he was to ignore Nimor's commands, but as Nimor intended to scrupulously honor his bargain with Agrach Dyrr, he was reasonably certain that the Dyrr officer would offer no trouble.
"Yes, Captain?" Jazzt said.
He was careful not to show any expression at all, simply regarding Nimor with the bland curiosity of a seasoned veteran.
"Form up the company there, beside the Baenre contingent. Tell the men to make ready for a long march. I hope to set out within the hour."
"Yes, Captain," Jazzt replied.
The lieutenant stepped back and saluted sharply, then turned and began to bark orders to the Agrach Dyrr soldiers. Nimor turned his mount aside and trotted across the plaza to a small tent bustling with activity. There, the highborn officers and commanders of each of the various House contingents had gathered, most with some number of sergeants and mes-sengers in train. Several arguments on all manner of different topics - the order of march, the best place to halt at the end of the day, the fastest route to the Pillars of Woe - proceeded at the same time.
He dismounted, handed the reins of his war-lizard to a nearby slave, and strode into the midst of the confusion, pushing through to the parti-tioned area. He had to flash his insignia of House and rank to gain admit-tance. Inside, a knot of captains and officers from various Houses stood engaged in several different conversations at the same time. The occasion of raising an army and marching to war seemed to displace the normal rivalries and vendettas, at least for a time. Instead of dueling each other in the streets, the rakish fellowssought to outshine each other with deeds of valor and ruthlessness on the battlefield.
Nimor surveyed the commanders, noting the insignias of six out of eight great Houses, and another half dozen of the largest and strongest minor Houses. His eye fell on a male wearing the insignia of House Baenre, as the fellow held up his hands and raised his voice to capture the atten-tion of the other officers.